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I'm never sure what to write in these little biography boxes, so
I'll just start with the current moment. It's roughly 9 o'clock
at night on a Sunday in August, and tomorrow morning I'm leaving
for Wisconsin on a short vacation. I experienced very little
sleep last night, which is unsurprising given my generally
unhealthy habits when it comes to sleep, exercise, and diet.

My name is Veronica Rose.

I once went to a free performance of these Buddhist monks
(or something of the sort, I can't really remember), where they
had a large sandbox and they made all of these beautiful pictures
in it. When they were done with one illustration, they'd just
move the sand around, sort of like an Etch-A-Sketch, and start on
something else, and by the end of it, the only evidence that it
ever happened was the audience's memories and the big square of
sand in the ground. Nobody was allowed to take pictures or videos
of the process, or even sketch what the pictures looked like.
These monks had totally grasped the idea of letting things go as
they needed to.

I think that's maybe the reason I write; because I
can't let anything go. Every experience or thought that
I have... for some reason I feel like I have to
document and record all of them. I save every important
online conversation I've ever had, keep a list of every person
I've ever had feelings for, and collect the phone numbers of
every person I've ever known based on a completely unfounded
paranoia that I might need to contact them someday.

So maybe I'm just trying to hold onto the details.

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